


Footprints In The Snow

by tearyangel



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Happy Ending, I'm Bad At Tagging, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot, Snow, Soulmates, Spirits, Strangers to Lovers, True Love, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:26:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29947893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tearyangel/pseuds/tearyangel
Summary: Buzzing with a blossoming excitement as snow finally arrives, George's curiosity is peaked the next day, when he wakes up to find footprints in the snow by his garden.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Kudos: 40





	Footprints In The Snow

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I wrote this inspired by the snow which finally started settling in England (I wrote this a while back but forgot to publish) and it was pretty and gave me this idea.
> 
> It's also a little inspired by that one anime which I've forgotten the name of, but if you know it, it'll be obvious when you read it. 
> 
> Quick warning that some of this is rushed and I never got around to fixing it but anyways, I really hope you enjoy! (:

Steam rises from the cup of hot cocoa George held firmly in his hands as he admires the view outside his window; it had finally started snowing in England, and had created a thick layer of snow overnight. He smiles softly as he places his cup down and continues staring at the light snowflakes which float in the winter air outside, a twinge of excitement surges within him and he rushes to put on his shoes. 

As he opens his door, his smile is replaced with a small frown as he looks over his garden. Footprints littered the snow leading up to the flowerbed which sits in the corner of the area. He glances over the trail with curious eyes, and quickly decides to follow them. 

The biting air whirls around George who locks his door before stuffing his hands away in his coat pockets. It’s so cold, he can see his breath each time he exhales. He peers back over his garden as he continues to follow the footprints in the snow, and finds they’re leading toward the deep forest a short walk away. Even though the forest lies close to his house, George had never bothered to go and explore within it, as most people in his small village spread rumours about it being haunted. Though he remained unsure whether to believe these rumours or not, he didn’t crave to go and find out. He simply never cared enough to investigate in the depths of the huge forest, and found himself occupied most days so he never got the chance to find out- even if he wanted to.

His heartbeat seems to grow louder as he awkwardly climbs over the wooden fence which borders the forest, entering through a wide gap in the tall trees. George can’t help but peek back at his house in the far distance, it had grown small due to how far he had travelled, and he notices the footprints beginning to slowly fade. This causes his curiosity to grow, and he wonders if it was snowing so much it had begun to cover them. The tiny snowflakes in the air seemed to disagree, not big, or heavy enough to hide entire footprints. So why were they disappearing?

George shakes the thoughts from his mind as he wanders further into the forest, thick trees stand tall together, creating a type of canopy over him while darkening the atmosphere. He hops over a thin stream which flows smoothly toward an even more shadowy area further on. Avoiding this, he sticks to the brighter route, in which the early sun peeks through cracks in the trees. The delicate breeze startles leaves which lift up and whisk around with the wind, allowing more sun to shine through. 

He continues following the footprints, which are increasingly becoming harder to see. Dried leaves which had been long buried by layers of snow crunches beneath George’s feet as he eventually comes into an opening. The area is clear of trees, glistening snow covering the floor as the sunlight bounces off it. It looks breathtaking, but his attention is torn from the beautiful landscape and toward a man who stood in the centre. 

The stranger stands with his back to George, but he could tell he’s observing the sky with the way his head is tilted back. He can’t help but also bring his eyes up, and now realises the broad sky is in full view. The treetops which before had covered the sight were left behind, and now you could see the pale snowflakes as they float down from the sky. 

George inches closer to the man, who’s much taller than himself. His hair shines greatly, making it look almost golden, and his face is hidden underneath a mask which is plain white with a smiley face on. This was the man who was creeping around in his garden? George stares at him accusingly while he’s not looking, because this stranger could probably do some harm to him if he were to say these things aloud. 

His eyes follow the footprints which obviously lead up to stranger, confirming this strange masked man was, in fact, in George’s garden last night. His eyes linger on the guy as his hands reach up to the back of his head, undoing the string which holds his mask in place.

“Why were you in my garden?” George suddenly blurts, and regret quickly trickles into his brain. 

The stranger jumps, a sharp gasp escaping his lips as his mask falls from his face, and into the snow below. He immediately bends down, grabbing the mask and clutching it firmly in his hands. Without turning to face George, he quickly puts it back on, tying those same strings back up.

He seems to sigh a breath of relief, and returns his gaze toward the sky, ignoring him completely. 

George scoffs, displeased with the lack of answers he’s receiving. “Well?”

The man straightens his posture as if he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t be. He whisks his head toward George, and motions to himself with his hands. “You can see me?”

“What?” He questions, narrowing his eyes at the other. 

The man turns his head as if to look around, though surrounding the two were only trees. Who was he looking for? 

George sighs. “Are you some kind of creep?”

He tilts his head, _“creep?”_

This only earns him a sigh in response. This whole situation is beginning to really confuse George. “Yes, creep. You were sneaking around in my garden.” He pauses, raising an eyebrow. “And what’s with the mask?”

“Oh.”

George fights the urge to scream at the man, but he takes a deep breath to calm himself. “That’s not an answer.”

“I didn’t know the garden belonged to you.” The masked man shrugs. “You have the prettiest blue flowers.”

He visited his garden to look at his flowers? George shakes his head with a frown. “Who are you, anyway?”

The stranger nods toward George, and gestures for him to follow. “My name is Dream, I’m the spirit who owns this forest.”

“George.” He says his own name aloud, now they know each other's names.

The man, Dream, ducks into the surrounding trees. Twigs and other small branches snap as the two tread over them as they head further into the forest. Usually, this situation would probably scare George or put him on edge, but surprisingly he doesn’t feel panicked. In fact, he feels almost comforted by the man’s presence.

“Spirit?” He repeats, cautiously. So the rumours were true, this forest _is_ haunted?

The pair reach another vast open area, except this one is void of snow due to the layers of leaves above them, providing shelter to the ground below. 

“Yeah…” Dream trails off, his tone questioning. “Wait, who are you?”

“George…?” He replies in the same confused voice. None of this seemed to make any sense, and he finds the feeling unsettling.

The stranger halts, turning to look at him. “You’re not a spirit?”

He shakes his head at Dream, unsure of how else to respond. It was only today he became aware that spirits really do exist, and it warps his mind in a strange way.

“Oh.” 

“What’s wrong with that?” George asks, suddenly feeling out of place.

Dream holds his hand up in a peace sign, leaning slightly lower to match George’s height. He clears his throat, looking at the smaller boy expectantly. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Two.” He replies, more confused than ever before. “What are you doing?”

“You shouldn’t be able to see me.”

George’s breath hitches in his throat, and a foreign sense of panic washes over him. “I don’t understand.”

Dream brings one of his hands up, screeching the back of his neck awkwardly as he chuckles and holds the other out toward George, who stands staring at him in confusion.

“Touch my hand.”

George frowns, but reaches forward anyways. As his skin almost comes into contact with Dream’s, goosebumps scatter on the surface of his arms and his hand goes straight through. 

“I can’t touch you.” He deadpans, his head beginning to hurt from the sheer amount of bewilderment. 

“I guess that makes sense.”

George raises his eyebrows at Dream, “to who? Because none of this makes sense to me.”

“I’m a spirit, George. Humans aren’t supposed to see me when I have my mask on- so you scared me when you could.” He shrugs, before bringing his hands to the back of his mask once more. 

“What are you doing?” 

“I have an idea.” Dream states, before loosening the straps holding the mask to his face and letting it drop. “Now touch me.”

George freezes, not expecting him to take the mask off so fast. The man before him looks as breathtaking as the sky. Bright, emerald eyes stare back at him, a certain sparkle to them. Light freckles scatter his nose and cheeks, and he wears a lopsided grin as he holds out his hand to George once again.

He has to shake his head and steady his thought before allowing his trembling hand to come forward and touch Dream’s. Their skin connects, causing a warmth to shoot up George’s neck as a blush rises to his cheeks. The tip of his fingers graze over Dream’s warm ones, lingering on his skin for just a second longer before he pulls them back.

“So the same rules apply to you.” The taller states, studying George. “Except for you, when I put the mask on, you can still see me.”

“Why though?” He finds himself asking. 

Dream raises his shoulders, a frown prominent on his features. “No idea.”

George finally looks around the area he had been brought to. Dainty blue flowers litter the floor, along with a few other flowers he didn’t recognise. 

“These are the same ones from my garden.” George notes, smiling.

“I like their color.”

“They’re really the only color I can see properly- blue.” 

Dream walks closer to George. “Really?”

“Yeah. I’m colorblind.” He admits before his eyebrows crease together in confusion again. “Which is also why this doesn’t make sense. I usually can’t see other colors normally; but I can see your colors.”

“What do you mean?”

“The color of your eyes. They’re vibrant, and a color I usually don’t see. But it’s only you... I only see you in real color, everything else remains the same.”

“That's...weird.” Dream says, his confusion akin to George’s, who hums in agreement.

The two admire the various flowers scattered across the ground which Dream had stolen from various places. Minutes turned into hours as they soak in one another’s company, small talk mixed with deeper topics fill the air as clear, pale blue skies seep into warmer colours. A slow, orange hue sets into the sky, fading into pinks and reds as evening settles over the forest. Their souls delve deeper into the peaceful atmosphere for a moment longer, a distant bird tweeting from afar, and George mentions he should be getting home with slight disappointment evident in his tone. He and his newfound friend had enjoyed each other’s company, and a large part of George didn’t want to leave, but begrudgingly, he begins his journey home.

Weeks go by, each day similar to the last; George would walk into the forest and meet Dream, and together they’d walk around, talking. Dream liked to show him parts of the forest he had yet to see, like the quiet area where birds sleep- or the small mushroom circle which appeared to be straight out of a fairytale. Dream had spent so long in this vast forest, he had become used to these beautiful sights, but with every tour he took George on to see something new, he felt himself learning to adore the beauty of the forest once again. It was easier to admire the scenery when George was in it. Such as the river, full of lively fish and bright flowers, frogs and freezing water. He’d usually look past the striking view, as he’d seen it a million times before, but somehow George brought it back. 

Days when the two would mess around were Dream’s favourite. Splashing one another with icy water and hearing his pretty laugh, or hunting the entire forest just to give George as many blue flowers he could find. Days where they’d climb trees to look over the hidden beauties in the forest, and struggle again to get back down. Days when he’d prank George with bugs he’d found under mossy rocks, which would only cause him to double over in a fit of laughter when the other would screech in a mixture of fear and disgust.

Exploring the depths of the forest with George had become his favourite thing to do, and each day, he found himself buzzing with a foreign excitement at the thought of him on his way to meet him. 

“If I fall in, I’m never going to forgive you for bringing me here.” 

Dream rolls his eyes playfully at him, laughing as he eyes the distance between them. He had jumped the gap over the river, as today he planned to show George the little waterfall across the stream- but George feared he’d fall in if he were to jump over the river.

“You won’t fall.” Dream says, trying to convince the boy. “I’ll catch you.” 

“No, you won’t.” 

His hands reach up, undoing the straps to his mask as it drops from his face. He sets it down on the floor, and holds his hands out to George who could now touch him.

Seconds go by, and finally he jumps, meeting Dream’s hands with his own. The taller clutches him tight, ensuring he doesn’t fall backwards and into the freezing water below. A short giggle escapes George’s lips as he escapes Dream’s hold.

“See?”

George shakes his head, a grin on his face. “Shut up.”

Dream grabs his mask once again, bringing up to his face to reattach it, but another pair of hands stop him. 

“Why don’t you just leave it off?”

A teasing smile makes its way onto his face. “You like being able to look at my face?”

George scoffs. “I like being able to see your eyes. It’s the only time I get to see that colour.”

Dream chuckles, surrendering with his hands in the air. “Fine, fine.”

The two continue their short walk to the waterfall, hands brushing against one another each time one of them stepped a little too close. Of course, Dream didn’t mind, but he feared George did. He finds himself unable to stop himself as they near their destination. He grabs George’s hand at the sound of trickling water and drags him towards the waterfall with flecks of excitement in his eyes.

“Wow.” 

Dream smiles at him, proudly. “It’s pretty, right?” He asks, to which George silently nods- eyes sparkling with admiration as he stares at the waterfall. “Like you.”

This tears his gaze from the flow of water. “What?”

The taller man freezes, subconsciously bringing his mask to his face as if it would hide him. When the other continues staring at him, he drops it back down with a shrug.

“Pretty?”

Dream sighs. “George, you’re not an idiot; you know you’re pretty.”

A thick tension quickly seeps into the atmosphere, Dream fighting the urge to reach out and touch the other, while George is fighting his own thoughts. Dream feels as if he’s suffocating- did he say the wrong thing? Surely George must’ve known by now. 

He can’t help but return the mask to his face- hiding not only his blush, but the sour look on his face. Would George hate him now? Would he stop visiting him?

After an agonising silence, the two stuck in place as they battle their brains, George takes a careful step forward as if he were trying to figure Dream out. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Dream’s heart sinks, and just nods in response, knowing his voice would fail him if he tried to talk. Another silence passes by, and George finally decides to head home. This feels like a stab in the chest to Dream, as he never usually goes home before dark.

He stays rooted to the ground, unmoving as he watches his only real friend disappear into the trees. A pang of guilt hits him, but he ignores it. 

Surprisingly, the next day, George comes back, seemingly forgetting yesterday’s incident. Dream is internally grateful for their ability to move on, and this time, they decide to head to the far border of the forest.

As the two arrive into a meadow, surrounded by trees, they halt. Dream smiles at his friends, the ones he had been excited for George to meet. He had told them he made a friend, but refused to answer their nagging questions about who this new friend could possibly be. He demanded they meet him here in the meadow, in order to finally meet the guy he’s been hanging around with for weeks.

Dream looks around at the others, making a mental note of who actually showed up to meet his friend. As they step into view, everybody’s attention is drawn, and they each begin cooing at George, who stands in the centre staring at Dream.

“So this is the guy you’ve been so obsessed with?”

Dream narrows his eyes at the spirit similar to him, “I'm not obsessed.”

“Who are you talking to?” George interrupts before the other spirit gets a chance to talk. He raises a questioning brow at Dream, who frowns in response.

“You can’t see them?”

George’s brows crease together. “See who?”

The two stand staring at one another for a while, both confused and a little anxious. 

“It’s...only me you can see?”

The other nods, bewildered at the fact there are more people around him who he can’t see. Dream scowls at his friends who all begin laughing, teasing him about George- and for a while, he’s grateful George can’t hear them. The teasing soon turns into suggestive comments, and Dream flushes at their words. 

Each of his spirit friends wear their item which conceals them from the sight of the human eye. Dream’s item is a mask, but it can be anything. Most wear jewellery or hats, some even glasses or gloves. Even this deep within the forest, they must wear these items, as being seen by a human is typically prohibited. Though, Dream knows his friends wouldn’t mind, besides, they probably owe him.

He rolls his eyes at his friends’ antics, of course they’d try to embarrass him, though he struggles to hide the small smile on his face. As the trees rustle around the group, Dream’s face falls, smile faltering as he spots the new presence. 

As the tall figure arrives, he acknowledges his fellow spirits with a curt nod. “Is this the new spirit?”

Dream gulps. “No, it’s not- it’s a human.” He admits, suddenly feeling incredibly guilty and stupid. 

“Your mask is on...Yet he seems to be looking straight at you.” The Elder says, sharp eyes shooting daggers into Dream, who sheepishly shrugs in response.

“I know, I don’t know why, it just happened.” He pauses, checking to see how angry the other is, but gets no reaction. “But don’t worry, he can’t see the others.”

A sudden fire flashes through the Elder’s eyes. “You know humans aren’t supposed to see us unless absolutely necessary.”

Dream inwardly cringes at the passive aggressive tone in his voice as he spits each word. “Yeah, I know, but it’s not like I could do anything to stop it. He can see me regardless of the mask.” He tries to reason, and the other sighs.

The other spirits scatter, slightly fearful, and not wanting to get caught in the crossfire. Both Dream and the Elder can be fiery souls, but the elder was in charge, and ultimately made all the rules around here. They also knew they’d get into some kind of trouble if found that they knew about this, and they definitely wanted no part in that.

The Elder glares at Dream through tired features, lifting his hands and removing the necklace he had hanging loosely from his neck. A small crystal sits in the centre of the jewellery, charming and bright as it glistens lightly.

From the corner of his eye, Dream sees George jump at the sudden appearance of the other, who has now made himself visible to the boy.

“You have two choices.” The Elder states simply, peering at George under heavy eyelids. “Since you’re breaking our rules, you can either leave now, and never return…”

“Or?” Dream says, hurriedly trying to get a response.

The Elder glances at him, pursing his lips in warning. “Or, you can become one of us and-”

“That. I choose that.” George says, surprising the other two. 

Giving him no time to change his mind, the Elder leaves. 

Dream turns to George, wide eyed. He wants to yell, scream because the two of them have been so reckless, so careless. But he remains quiet, unsure of how to process the fact that his best friend is going to become one of his kind. He doesn’t know whether to be excited or angry, George has no idea what it’s like to be a spirit, he’ll never get to see his family again- hell, he’ll never get to leave this forest again. And although the forest is deep, it’s not exactly _fun._

What if he gets bored here? 

“Dream.” He says finally, breaking him from his thoughts. “It’s okay.” George tries convincing the other, though he doesn’t seem to believe him.

After some silence, his eyes flicker to meet his friend’s. “Prove it.”

For a moment, George remains standing still, almost dumbfounded. He stares blankly at Dream who tilts his head at his silence. _Prove it?_

“Can you take it off, please?”

The sweet tone in his voice breaks through Dream, making his head fuzzy, and he obliges. He, once again, tears the mask away from his face, staring intently at George who had taken a few steps closer while he was occupied.

Dream’s breath hitches at their proximity, and his mind screams at him to put it back on- to hide.

George reaches up to his face with a cold hand, pressing his palm to Dream’s cheek which reddens by the second. Though, he no longer wanted to run away.

He feels a wave of confidence wash over him and steps closer to George. The two are now almost flush against one another, and Dream can’t fight the urge to lean down and capture his lips. The sensation of their skin touching created a warmth which surges through the two as if they were binded by electricity. Cold lips morphing into warm ones, small touches turning into bolder ones. Cinnamon, sugar and honey coated George’s soft lips, the taste drawing Dream in impossibly further. His hands wrap themselves around George’s frame, the scent of his cologne suffocating Dream but he finds himself becoming addicted to it. 

Wired thoughts, tingling skin and buzzing lips suggest Dream’s experiencing euphoria, and he quickly becomes obsessed with the feeling of it. 

_Maybe soulmates do exist._


End file.
